


The Gods are Cruel

by MostlyVoidPartiallySnark



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Episode Ignis Verse 2, Gen, anyway -tosses this on the trash heap where it belongs-, apparently, because naming POV characters is too mainstream, in which the protagonist is never actually named
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark/pseuds/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark
Summary: Did you know there's a time limit for beating Ardyn after choosing "sacrifice my life" in Episode Ignis Verse 2? Yeah, that's a thing. :))Written for Inktober 2018. Prompt: "Cruel." Essentially a first draft, so it may be a little rough, but I told myself I wouldn't edit my Inktober pieces. Still, I think it's clean enough to post (with that disclaimer).





	The Gods are Cruel

The world spun. Flashed. This was it. This was the end.

All he ever wanted was to save his king. His friend. His brother. The gods had seen fit to show him the terrible fate awaiting the Chosen, and he had decided to take a stand.

But the gods were cruel.

Even as the voices of the Kings of Old rang in his head, sealing their contract, sealing his fate, Ardyn's echoing laughter was still there, worming its way into his ears. The power of the Ring flooded him like never before, an electric tingling in every muscle fiber, a rush pulsing in time with his heart. And it burned, oh, it _burned_ like the blood in his veins was replaced by fire, like every nerve impulse was a bolt of lightning, like the air in his lungs was frozen solid.

This was it. He was dying. Maybe he was already dead.

But fate be damned, he was going down swinging.

He swung his daggers like he had a thousand times before, and suddenly he was there, inches from the so-called chancellor. Ardyn dodged, his eyes wide but his smirk still on his lips, and suddenly the world was spinning and they were clashing over and over and again and again and there was _power_ in his strikes like he'd never held and it still

didn't

matter.

The room itself fell around them. He used the rubble to his advantage, but then, so did Ardyn. He had trained his entire life to defend his king, but Ardyn had about two millennia of experience on him. It was never going to be a fair fight. Even with all the power of the Ring, he could feel himself losing ground.

If he'd had more time…

If he'd been stronger…

If he'd been better prepared to handle the raw power of the Ring…

But dwelling on what-ifs had never been his way. Even as Ardyn tossed him aside like a doll, his only focus was on getting back up _just once more._ He knew his strikes were hitting home. He knew Ardyn was fighting back, not just toying with him as he had in Altissia, as he'd done to Ravus. But he also knew a hopeless fight when he saw one.

Not that that meant he was giving up.

At long last, it was over. He staggered back, teeth gritted, his grip on his daggers like iron. Then he stumbled. Then he fell.

 _No,_ he thought. _Not like this._ His body was a solid mass of pain, but he could still fight. His mind was slow and foggy, but he could still fight. His daggers, where were his daggers? But he could still fight.

He had to keep going.

He couldn't.

He laid there for a moment, determined to succeed, unable to bear the Ring's weight any longer. His breath came in agonized heaves. If he focused, he could barely see the ashy cracks in his skin. "Noct…" he breathed. This was for him. He _had_ to keep going.

"Oof," Ardyn huffed, too close but too far away. "For a moment, I felt death's chill wind."

 _Shut up_ , he thought. _Come closer and lie still so I can kill you._

Maybe one of Ardyn's tricks involved mind reading, because he was coming closer as he spoke. His words faded in and out of focus, but when a hand fisted in his hair and _pulled_ , suddenly it was much easier to concentrate.

"At least you won't have to spend your last moments alone," Ardyn purred.

He sneered, or at least tried to. Moving his face hurt. Ardyn kept speaking, but he stopped listening. _Not like this,_ he kept thinking. _Not like this. Please!_

But the gods were cruel, and they had never listened to him when he really wanted them to. Now, at the very end, was no different.

He strained for breath, for strength, for anything that would let him do this one last thing. But there was nothing. In his fading vision, Ardyn turned to go – for why should he stay? – and he stretched out a desperate, futile hand. A single tear burned across his face as he finally spoke.

"I don't want to die without him."


End file.
